Ghost- Enemies to Lovers

PUSH AND PULL

He pulls your hair enough to send little pricks of pain to your scalp. Not enough to cause real pain but enough to heighten the adrenaline coursing through you.

Y/n would be lying if she said she hadn't though about kissing Ghost during all those heated arguments. She even had to resort to scolding hot showers to replace the tingling feeling against her skin when Ghost punished her for disobeying. Whether it was running laps on the field until her legs shook, doing pull ups till her arms gave out, or performing push-ups until her body crumbled, she ended up pushing Ghost past his limit too.

He always stayed. Observing her. Watching her during her punishments. He learned Y/n would push herself past her breaking  point if that meant taking Ghost with her.

Mutally assured destruction.

Every time her legs collapsed from under her, she stood back up and kept running. If her arms gave out during pull ups she gave herself a 10 second break, rolled her shoulders, and kept going. It didn't matter if she only finished one lap or three pull ups before her muscles gave out again, she picked herself up and did it over and over. Her defiance and pain fueled both her and Ghost.

But Ghost was always the first to call her punishment off.

"That's enough for today Y/n. I rather not be stuck writing a report on how one of my soldiers died from exhaustion."

You drop from the pull up bars and squeeze your hands closed, keeping your arms from shaking in front of Ghost, "Really? I think I can go for at least 10 more."

"Inside. Now." The authoritative tone of his British accent made you wonder how he would sound demanding filthier things of you. Leading you to wonder how he would address your disobedience during said filthier things. Degradation or praise?

You feign disappointment as you walk past him but it does nothing to stop the smirk that plasters your face as you walk toward the building. That tingly sensation scatters across your skin as that heady feeling of satisfaction slows the firing of your pain receptors.

Pain and pleasure. The feeling of his teeth sinking into your bottom lips snaps you back into the present. You can't tell whether the sound you let out was a gasp or a whine. Maybe both?

The way his lips felt on yours left your brain foggy. It was like two puzzle pieces connecting, nothing else had felt more right than him against you.

"Ghost," you whisper as his teeth let go of your lip.

He grabs the knife your still holding at his throat and throws it dead center into the door across the room. The sound of wood splintering echos throughout the room.

Moving quickly he flips you over so he's on top.

"What is it love?" He cooes as his hand traces a path up your dress. God he was going to have dreams of you in this dress, hopefully for the rest of his life.

You look at him on top of you and realize every single second of bickering, yelling, and teasing over the past two years has foreshadowed to this moment.

"Touch me."

He smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, "You're not really in the position to be demanding such things from me now are you y/n?"

He wanted you to beg, to plead for him to touch you, and he wasn't going to settle for anything less. After all your bratting and teasing he wanted you at his complete mercy.

He pushed, you pulled.

You moved your hips against his and his control slipped for a millisecond, but that was all it took for a groan to pass his lips.